MUSIC; In the Back, By the Tuba, A Star Is Born

By DANIEL J. WAKIN

Published: October 15, 2006

HE may be a god of the trombone, but most of the time, Charlie Vernon is just another figure in black tie, laboring in obscurity at the back of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Yet on this particular night in Orchestra Hall, he stood in front, pumping his fists, waving at the audience and bathing in its adulation.

Mr. Vernon, the bass trombonist in the orchestra's legendary brass section, had just finished playing a tour-de-force concerto written expressly for him. This was its premiere run of concerts.

Backstage, scores of students, their teachers and fellow professionals from as far away as Boston, New York and New Mexico came to pay homage. Mr. Vernon signed autographs for 45 minutes: for one late September night, he was the Elvis of the brass set. ''This is awesome,'' said Mat Anderson, 19, a trombone student from the University of Wisconsin, Platteville, almost quivering with excitement.

It was a rare moment in the spotlight for an instrument that receives little respect, and certainly little renown as a solo instrument. Yet this season there are four -- count 'em, four -- major trombone premieres in the United States. The others are at the New York Philharmonic, the Harrisburg Symphony and the Hartford Symphony.

The premieres suggest that an instrument that has rarely been invited into the spotlight has finally hit the big time. They also shed light on how solo commissions come about, through a mixture of friendship, personal ambition, dedication to the instrument and, sometimes, sheer 'bone luck.

For much of its existence the orchestral trombone has labored in the background. It started out as a church instrument, and joined the orchestra relatively late, although it had isolated moments of glory, like the ''Tuba Mirum'' solo in Mozart's Requiem or blazing chords in big symphonies. In the mid-19th century the trombone became popular in town and factory bands, and in the next century it found its voice in dance bands and jazz.

In modern times, however, the trombone has its buffoonish image. It makes for good cartoon music. It is awkward to hold. It uses a sliding tube to change notes.

''That in itself is funny,'' said Joseph Alessi, the New York Philharmonic's principal trombonist.

It is capable, composers have long known, of great lyricism and power. Berlioz said it had ''the utmost nobility and grandeur'' and ''the deep and powerful accents of high musical poetry.'' But few wrote to flatter it. Trombone players had solo works by Frank Martin, Ferdinand David and Ernest Bloch. By contrast the French horn had Strauss and Mozart. Hearing a trombone concerto was like ''seeing a Maserati every once in a while on the road,'' Mr. Alessi said.

One reason, suggests Steven Greenall, the executive director of the International Trombone Association, is that trombonists are an easygoing, collaborative lot who prize blending. ''You're not supposed to stand out,'' he said. ''You're a section.''

Christian Lindberg is perhaps the world's leading solo trombonist. An accomplished composer as well (he wrote the piece that Mr. Vernon performed that evening in Chicago), he said he has been fighting for 25 years to promote the instrument. ''You wouldn't believe what the people said,'' he added. When he won a competition, one critic wrote that a trombone on the concert podium was like an ''accordion in church,'' Mr. Lindberg said. A London impresario told Mr. Lindberg's manager he would go to hear a trombone concerto only when ''heavily drunk.''

But in the last decade or so something happened. Concertos began appearing. The ranks of talented trombone players swelled. (The International Trombone Association, one of at least six such societies around the world, now counts 5,000 members.) The technical boundaries of the instrument, already pushed in many ways by great jazz players, expanded.

''More composers were stepping up to the plate and writing for the instrument,'' Mr. Alessi said.

As the talent grew, and the repertory with it, even more composers were encouraged and inspired to write new pieces. A Pulitzer Prize for Christopher Rouse's trombone concerto in 1993 was an important spur. The snowball grew. More performances gave the trombone more credibility with programmers.

Two men are credited with outsize influence: Mr. Alessi, for whom the Rouse work was commissioned, and Mr. Lindberg.

''Really, they've been desperate,'' said Melinda Wagner, another Pulitzer Prize-winning composer, who wrote the new concerto for Mr. Alessi and the Philharmonic. ''There haven't been very many trombone concertos until the last generation.''

Mr. Lindberg says 82 trombone works have been written for him in the last 25 years. It is not entirely surprising. Though he picked up the instrument only at 17, he is a prodigious and tireless virtuoso, raising the profile of his instrument as James Galway did for the flute.

''You could stick a kazoo in his hands, and he'd sell the concert hall out,'' Mr. Greenall said of Mr. Lindberg.

One of his performances came with the Chicago Symphony in 2002 when he gave the American premiere of the dense and weighty ''Solo for Trombone and Orchestra'' by Luciano Berio, a composer with strong credibility.